


You're the Song Stuck in My Head

by freedombarnes



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Fluff, Involves a piano somehow, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedombarnes/pseuds/freedombarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Chris appears slightly too excited all week about Sebastian coming to visit Chris before they were shipped off to film the latest Captain America movie, he doesn’t really care. Couldn’t care less at the slightly confused stares of onlookers that watch him smile from ear to ear, bouncing slightly more than usual from the sudden energy boost. Sebastian, the man he’d fallen head over heels for during the first Cap movie, is going to be at his house for the first time. </p><p>Alone. </p><p><i>With</i> Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the Song Stuck in My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Saw [this prompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/124838088366/imagine-before-person-a-and-b-start-dating) and thought, "Can't wait to write this and fuck it up!"  
> So, here you go. This is loosely based on that prompt. And this is also unbeta'd and edited by me, which may or may not be a good thing.  
> This is also the beginning of a series of Evanstan fics I plan to write, AU or non-AU. Fight me about it, Helen.
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://freedombarnes.tumblr.com) and scream at me for being a disgrace to Evanstan.

Though it’ll be entirely platonic and devoid of what Chris actually wants to _do_ with the other man, he won’t deny some time to be around his costar. His friend. Who Chris wishes desperately is _more_ than just a friend.

They had made plans after the first meeting about the _Civil War_ film, when Chris has gotten on the subject of being in Boston for just another weekend, when Sebastian had said, “I’ll be in Boston, too. Might as well do something.” Chris grew just a tad bit overexcited (he will never admit to the partial squealing that occurred under his breath as Sebastian walked away, _never_ ) and couldn’t contain the smile on his face, even long after Sebastian departed. He spotted Anthony walk beside him, Scarlett in tow, the both of them giving him a shit-eating grin after having heard the plans being made. Anthony made an obscene gesture with his hands, causing Chris to swat at his hands and warmth to spread across his cheeks, all the while Scarlett smirked.

They have always given Chris a hard time about his apparent “undying love” for their fellow costar after Chris drunkenly confided in Anthony during filming of the last _Captain America_ movie ( _“Those lips, Anthony,” Chris slurred, slumped over halfway on Anthony and on the couch that occupies Chris’ trailer, “were crafted straight from a gay porno.”_ ). With Scarlett he just outright told. Sober and everything. He trusts her that way.

Chris has always known why, though. To get Chris to admit his feelings. To push him in the direction of “sucking his fears up and instead sucking Sebastian’s dick.” But no matter how much Anthony presses him to do or say _something_ , no matter how much Scarlett literally _pushes_ him into Sebastian, causing the two men to collide and stumble around words, Chris knows deep down he could never have Sebastian. He’s 99% positive Sebastian is as straight as a rod, despite the gay roles he had taken through the years (Chris may or may not have done some research).

And in a sense of irony, Chris has never thought of a man the way he thought of Sebastian. No man could’ve made his heart flutter at the sight of a smile, make him weak at the knees whenever they so much as _look_ at him, make his mouth dry up at the sight of those lips…

Sebastian is the exception, always is.

This confused Chris at first, heart entangled by emotions he’d never held for someone of the same gender. Made him ask tough questions. Made him want to figure out the _whys_ and the _hows_. How he went one day fine and fucking dandy and the next a mess because Sebastian just so much as _smiled_ at him, something he usually does anyway. He also flung said questions at his brother Scott while on the family couch, half-drunk, asking for reassurance because his brother _knows_. Knows just how confusing it felt at first. His brother, the love guru himself, had simply told him, “Chris, stop being a pussy and accept you want the dick!” Their mother, the sweet, _wonderful_ person she was, had come to Chris’ aid and slapped the back of Scott’s head. She coddled him, comforted him, told him he was still Chris. That sometimes, we fall for people without a clear reason.

He’s accepted it, understands it, isn’t really bothered by the sudden change, but doesn’t know how to stop those emotions. Doesn’t know how to tell his heart to not fall for the ones he can never have, never touch. Doesn’t think he really wants to.

It makes Chris feel a flutter of anxiety fight against the happiness that is settled in his stomach. It’s an internal war that never stops, and most of the time his happiness had an upper hand. He’s used to it by now. But sometimes, it didn’t. He hopes it won’t be one of _those_ battles tonight, not with Sebastian on his way to Chris’ place. He knows it will be, though.

He groans into his couch’s pillow.

To occupy his mind and keep him less jittery, Chris takes to straightening his house a little straighter, rearranging the photo frames of himself and family members that are on top of his entertainment system, then rearranging them again because they weren’t just _right_. Dusting shelves and tables that he’s dusted about five times now, dusting them again for good measure. Sweeping hardwood floors that are nowhere near messy.

Nearly fifteen minutes of rearranging later, he stares at the too neat living room, the ivory walls that feel a little too small around him, considering rearranging that sofa chair just to the left a little more, barely hearing the soft knock that came from the front door.

 _Shit_.

 _Contain yourself_ , Chris thinks. _Just fucking chill_. _Just two dudes hanging out. Like dudes normally do. Platonically._

He flattens the wrinkles out on the red Henley he wore and takes a small breath as his hand grasps the knob to his front door. Swings it open. Meets eyes with the man who controls his heart, dictates its flutters and beats, a small smile growing on the face Chris doesn’t think about at night. Chris’ heart goes into overdrive, as per usual. He offers a slightly strained smile. Sebastian holds up a six pack of cheap beer in his hand.

Sebastian’s offering is better.

“Brought beer!” he smiles, walking past Chris into the living room as Chris moves to let him in, the scent of his cologne making Chris dizzy with fucking _want_. Sebastian sets the six pack on the coffee table that sat not quite catty-corner to the front door with a soft _clink!_ , bottles connecting.

Chris tries his best not to roam his eyes over the other man’s body, tries to not appreciate the way his gray shirt accentuates the muscles that lay beneath the cotton, tries his damnedest to not let his eyes linger as he watches Sebastian strip himself of that stupid leather jacket he always wore. He’d like to imagine that he succeeds in his refrainment (he doesn’t).

Chris closes the front door, exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding. See, _he_ can act casual after all _._ “You trying to butter me up before Mackie does?”

A laugh. It doesn’t make Chris feel a slight sense of pride for causing that laugh, _it doesn’t_. “Nah, that can wait until we’re officially on set.” He plops down on the soft couch with a slight bounce, jostling the throw blanket on the back. “Besides, cheap beers are your weakness.”

Well, he isn’t wrong.

Chris laughs softly and fumbles with his sleeves, diverting his attention from the man in front of him pushing strands of hair from his eyes, long hair he’s had to grow for his role. Tries to focus on not moving too fast as he goes to sit beside Sebastian. He also likes to imagine that he succeeds in doing that (he actually does this time). Long hands meet jean-clad thighs in a gentle slap as Chris rests them there, twitching just slightly with the want of resting them on the other man’s instead.

“I will say Mackie has some tough competition now.”

That earns another laugh. Another unintentional score for Evans.

“Damn, gotta step up my game come Wednesday, I guess,” Sebastian reaches forward to grab two bottles from the six pack, popping the caps off, allowing Chris a slight view of tan skin along Sebastian’s lower back for just a moment. A beautiful moment he will cherish forever. What Chris would give to run his fingers along that golden plain of skin…

God. Dammit.

Chris swallows thickly as he accepts the beer, fingertips grazing each other. He silently thanks the bottle in his hand for the distraction it gives him.

“I’m just happy I don’t have to share my beer now,” Chris takes a long swig. Another laugh pipes up from beside him.

“Oh, is _this_ how it’s gonna be?”

Chris shrugs. “I like being stocked on my beer, what can I say?”

Sebastian sighs, shaking his head slightly with soft laughter. “You are something else, Chris Evans.” He taps long fingers against cool glass in thought. He watches those fingers with a want of grabbing and holding them. Chris averts his eyes, studying his bottle with intricate attention. _Chris, be reasonable. You’re acting like a teenaged girl_ , his thoughts criticize him, also as per usual. His thumb plays with the corner of the peeling label as he battles his mind.

“Shush,” he mutters softly in a vain attempt to silence his thoughts for once.

“What?”

“Um, Netflix bought more movies from Disney?” Chris tries. He could literally _kick_ himself. “That’s very important to me.” Heavy sips of his beer chase that sentence.

Sebastian blinks at him, “Random. More excuses for the both of us to waste time now, hm?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, you’re like the Disney Jesus or something anyways. Pop one on,” A free hand gestures to the flatscreen that sits innocuously in the space between two shelves of his entertainment center. The same TV where Chris watched Sebastian in one of those… roles. For the research he may or may not have done.

“I like that title. Disney Jesus.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Sebastian grins, white teeth flashing from behind those pink lips. Chris decides to focus his attention on his TV instead.

He grabs his X-Box controller and pulls up Netflix. Types out a title. Waits. Tips of fingers drum against the plastic of the controller.

“ _Finding Nemo_? Chris, _really_?”

“What?” Chris tries to act indignant. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all, unless you want to see a 32 year old man _cry_.”

“Now _that’s_ something I want to see.”

“Assho—Ow!” A flick to the head. No one insults Chris in _his_ house. No matter how cute they are.

He selects the movie, lets it load on the screen and play. Unlike what was said, Sebastian doesn’t cry, not even when Nemo gets taken, not even when Marlin presumes Nemo to be dead in P. Sherman’s dental office, _not_ _even_ when Dory was afraid she’d be left behind. Chris sheds a tear, doesn’t let Sebastian see. Would _never_.

They’ve finished off the six pack by the time the credits roll. Damn.

Sebastian looks at the empty bottles that have gathered on the table. “Didn’t you say you had beer you didn’t want to share?” he chides, voice soft.

Chris gives him a look.

With a sigh he gets up to get more. Goes to his fridge, pulls out the six pack of slightly less cheap-tasting beer because he’s a fancy man with impeccable tastes. Balances the leftovers that threaten to fall out. He hears bottles clank together from behind and come closer.

"Where's the trash can?" Chris hears Sebastian ask, voice slightly trailing off as his attention is grabbed by something.

He closes the fridge door and turns on his heels, but is met with Sebastian’s back faced towards him, Netflix entirely disregarded one room over, empty bottles forgotten on the kitchen table.

“I didn’t know you play the piano,” Sebastian says softly.

Chris looks at the small piano that is sat next to the kitchen table and back at Sebastian, whose attention is entirely devoted to the instrument. It almost mimicked a grand piano, but was closer to the kinds you'd see in a church rather than a concert hall. Black wood that lost its sheen from over the years.

It’s not that Chris plays the piano; ironically its main use is for decoration, as it was an impulse buy from a yard sale after he first bought his house, and the occasional times Chris tries to play a botched arrangement of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. He’d _like_ to, of course, but there is never enough time to learn with what he does for a living. Always on the move and such. He’ll stick to his terrible arrangements of children’s tunes for now.

“I… don’t really play, but I want to,” Chris explains, watching Sebastian trace his fingers over a design imprinted on the wooden surface, just above the keys. “There’s just not enough time. The piano’s kinda just… there.”

Sebastian hums, hovering fingers above slightly aged keys, twitching to move them in a rhythm. He pulls back the long piano bench after a moment, sitting, taking the place as if he belongs there. Chris sets the beer on the counter by the fridge and walks to him, sitting on Sebastian’s left gingerly, almost as if he shouldn’t be there. Even if it is _his_ piano.

“Do you play?” Chris asks softly, though the answer is kind of obvious. His eyes lock with a sea of gray and blue fighting for their place in the irises. Sebastian smiles slightly, just a tad bashful.

“Not well, but decent enough. My mother’s the one with the true talent,” A chuckle. “I only know a handful of songs.”

“I barely know ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, dude. Can’t get worse than that.”

Laughter rumbles through the younger man’s chest, shaking the bench. Chris is on a _roll_ tonight. “Damn, Chris, that’s fucking _sad_.”

“Hey, like I said, not enough time,” he laughs. Teeth play with a bottom lip thoughtfully. “You should play a song.”

Eyes grow wide. _Aw,_ shit _, Chris. Why’d you ask that,_ Chris thinks. “I don’t know if I’d be any good, it’s been a couple of months since I’ve touched a piano.”

“It might earn you a lot more brownie points,” Chris wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe more beer.”

“You play dirty, Evans. Fine! I’ll play a song.”

Chris considers that an immense victory.

Fingers take their place on the keys, as if they were constructed entirely for this purpose. They stretch long and wide, tan a contrast against the aged white. Sebastian looks up at Chris, making him almost melt in his seat from the heat of those eyes. “Any requests?”

“Hmm, surprise me.”

Sebastian nods and loses himself in thought, searching through his mental library for a song. He considers them delicately, as if the song has to be important for Chris. Which in turn makes Chris’ stomach do flips and his thoughts to chastise him. Sebastian looks down at the keys after a moment, arranges his fingers, and begins to move. The house is soon filled to the brim with the gentle melody, a little out of tune from age and neglect. It is a familiar melody, a simple waltz. Chris can recall it, but cannot place a name. He doesn’t care what song it is, just so long as Sebastian doesn’t stop playing.

In his fair opinion, Sebastian could play worse than Chris himself, could barely scrape by on that _stupid fucking song_ Chris just can’t get right, and still make it sound beautiful. Change the melody, dissect it, add charm to it, put it back together seamlessly with those fingers.

Fingers move up and down the octaves of keys, each hand putting together two melodies at once. No hesitation. Chris can’t decide if he should watch Sebastian’s hands or his face, the way his brows furrow in thought, the way his tongue moves across his bottom lip slightly with concentration. Chris can’t decide which part is his favorite, won’t decide, and settles on moving his eyes back and forth from hands to face, hands to face.

He feels a little pang of disappointment when the song ends after a minute, wishing those fingers would stay and never cease to provide beautiful melodies. Sebastian sets them in his lap, toying with a stray thread hanging off his shirt. Chris feels his heart pound even harder as he watches Sebastian’s eyes glow with a sense of wonder and surprise as he stares at the keys. His face allots an insecure smile to slightly grow. Chris wants more than anything to kiss that insecurity away, and it’s almost a little painful to refrain himself from reaching his hands out and cupping that face. God, Chris is in deep.

“Like I said, it’s been a while, so it isn’t perfect,” he says, looking at Chris, insecurity still manifesting itself.

“It was better than perfect, Seb,” A soft reply emits from Chris’ dry lips. He feels summer storms for eyes on him, can feel them brand themselves on his too hot skin. “Play another?”

They meet eyes for a moment, searching. Sebastian nods after a second and sets his hands near the keys. Fingers reach out to resume their position and move onto an unfamiliar, upbeat song. As Sebastian moves, loses himself in the song again, only pausing once to push hair from his eyes, Chris ponders Anthony and Scarlett’s words, their urges to get Chris to admit his feelings. He ponders his brother’s not so motivational ones, then his mother’s calming ones. Thinks back to _Finding Nemo._ Thinks about how Marlin took risks to find his happiness, to find his family again.

Maybe it was high time Chris did the same and find _his_ happiness. Which resides with the man that sits beside him on the piano bench.

Only Chris could compare a digital clownfish to his situation. Figures.

 _Chris, no, don’t do it_ , his mind protests, begs him to reconsider. Anxiety claws at him, but like the onlookers from the previous week, he couldn’t care less. Chris Evans is a risk taker, dammit.

He focuses back into the music, which had increased its tempo slightly, like Chris’ heartbeat. A dramatic tune. Perfect choice for the moment. Shaky hands grab a wrist, ceasing the music with an abrupt pause of keys being pressed down. Sebastian looks at him with furrowed brows. Chris actually didn’t realize how close their faces were.

“What are you…” Sebastian’s voice trails off, eyes flickering from Chris’ eyes to the lips mere inches from his own.

Ah, fuck it.

Chris leans in, collides lips with plump ones that desperately need chapstick, _Jesus_. His eyes flutter shut, a little in fear, a little out of pleasure. Sebastian’s lips are frozen, no movement, no reaction, and Chris thinks he’s fucked up now, thinks of a last resort apology, how he’d salvage their friendship, at least what he _could_ salvage, when those lips come to life against his. Begins a gentle movement, a way to test the waters. A tongue teases the entrance to Chris’ mouth, timid yet insistent, and Chris allows access. A hand comes up to grasp his neck, another stuck in Chris’ grasp. Chris’ free hand moves to rest against Sebastian’s right hip, thumb rubbing circles under the fabric of his shirt.

Kissing Sebastian is entirely everything Chris hasn’t imagined and more. Those lips are warm, plush, better than anything Chris can think of. He feels as if he’s in a dream, as if he’ll awaken and find out it was all in his head. His heart threatens to escape through his chest. Sebastian tastes like cheap beer, tastes like rain and sunshine and everything Chris has ever wanted.

He is Chris’ favorite flavor.

He hums into the kiss, partially to reassure himself _again_ that this is indeed real, this is happening, and partially because he’s fucking _happy_. Teeth clash slightly every now and then, messy and imperfect. Tongues chase each other lazily, inquisitive. Lips lead ahead. They learn what makes the other tick. For Sebastian, all Chris has to do is bite down lightly and pull on his bottom lip in the same manner. It sends a pleasured sigh through him, a soft “ _Chris_ ,” and Chris feels proud that he did _that_. For Chris, whenever Sebastian’s teeth graze his lips and nibble, it sends a soft moan through his throat and a shiver down his spine. It almost makes Chris forget to _breathe_.

They stay like that for a while, (seconds, minutes, _hours_ , Chris can’t tell), no sound in the room sans their breathing and soft sounds of lips meeting lips in one fluid motion, breaking apart only to catch their breaths, to look at each other with wide eyes. Chris places a chaste kiss to those lips, then to a right cheek, the bridge of a nose, and back down. Foreheads press together, grounding them.

Chris looks at the younger man, heart swelling and threatening to burst. Sebastian’s lips are slick with spit, red and swollen. Chris’s positive he’s made those chapped lips even worse. Sebastian's eyes are soft, mimicking the wonder he had while looking at the piano. They ask so much, ask the same question that lingers in the air between their lips.

_How long have you wanted this?_

Sebastian lets go of his hold around the back of Chris’ neck, left hand instead grabbing a hold of Chris’ right one. “How long?” He beats Chris to the question. _God_ , his voice is debauched. Just from _kissing_. Now Chris was curious to hear what he’d sound like after he’s had his way with the man. _One day_ , he hopes.

A thumb brushes across knuckles as Chris sighs. Thinks back. “Since we filmed the last movie,” Thinks some more. “I’ve always adored you, but it never hit me until I saw you on set for the first time since the first one. At how you moved in that fucking uniform.”

Sebastian hums, shivers, content and moved by the answer. A grin plays at the corner of his mouth, making it hard for Chris to refrain himself from kissing it. “Ached for you since we first laid eyes on each other at that screening test.”

“And all this time you didn’t even _try_ to make a move on me, tsk tsk,” Chris jokes, willing his heart to settle down. Sebastian’s wanted him since they first met. Sebastian’s. Wanted him. _All this time_.

Sebastian laughs. “I guess we’ve been pining after each other like two goddamned teenage girls,” he shakes his head with a smile. “If I had known simply playing the fucking piano would make you do this, I woulda played for you a long time ago.”

Chris laughs, laughs so hard it brings tears to his eyes. Laughs because all this time he thought Sebastian would never feel the same way. Laughs because _he_ drove the other man crazy, too. Laughs because he’s fucking _happy_. Sebastian laughs, can’t help it. His head falls forward and rests against Chris’ right shoulder, both men losing themselves in stupid giggles.

 _We really are teenage girls_ , Chris thinks.

Laughter settles down into a content silence, Chris’ left hand having moved from a hip to the small of Sebastian’s back. His index finger draws shapes on cotton, writes letters, feels the man under his hand. He presses a kiss on top of hair and warmth, chin turned to rest on his head. They sit there for a little while longer, feeling, thinking, until they can feel the effects of sitting on hardwood for so long. Chris  stares at the ivory walls as they stare back, bites his lip, another question digging at his brain, teasing his tongue.

“What does this make us?”

Sebastian fucking beats him to asking a question _again_. His voice is muffled from Chris’ shoulder, vibrates them both. He sounds small, as if he’s afraid of the answer he’ll get. Chris pets his back.

He doesn’t answer right away though, silenced by the question he didn’t expect he’d be the one to give an answer to. What _does_ this make them? He clucks his tongue. He would love something _more_ , would love to take Sebastian on dates to the movies and chow down on overpriced popcorn, wake up in the morning and have Sebastian asleep beside him in either one of their beds, hold his hand and call him _his_. Would give anything for that to happen.

“Hopefully more than just a one time thing,” he chooses a simpler answer, muttering it into Sebastian’s hair. “Only if you want it to be that way.”

Sebastian raises his head to look at him. “What I’ve wanted for quite some time now, obviously.” Grins.

He feels himself grin back as they both lean forward, lips meeting again like long-lost lovers. Feels the both of them grin into the kiss until he pries that mouth open with his tongue. Chris’ heart is a firework, exploding in his chest full of color and excitement. Feels the heat travel through his veins, feels the electric current follow suit, feels the sparks where their lips move against each other, a little rougher this time, a little more perfect.

Just like them.

* * *

 

Anthony and Scarlett look from the table where they sat to eat their lunch. Watch the two men not too far from them lean into each other, steal glances, connect fingers under the shade of a blue umbrella. Have watched them do it all fucking day since they got here for Day 1 of filming. She tries to not show her defeat by hiding behind her sunglasses and salad. Couldn’t those assholes have waited until _today_ to finally make a first move?

Anthony moves his attention to the woman in front of him, smug. “I fuckin’ told you they’d get together last weekend. Pay up, Johansson.”

Scarlett glares at him through her sunglasses and digs into her purse for her wallet, fishing out the $20 she owes. Anthony gladly snatches it from her hand. She flicks a tomato from her salad at him.

Show off.


End file.
